The Dragon Warlord's Silent Bride

DARIC’S POV

By morning, Blackharrow had produced nine versions of the fire. Four independent witnesses disagreed about almost everything except one detail: the Grand Duchess had tried to shout, and no sound had come.

Daric trusted none of them completely. A narrow strip of clean linen covered the cut at his temple while he worked through the witness statements.

One servant claimed the brazier fell without warning.

A kitchen worker insisted the Grand Duchess had noticed it several minutes earlier.

One minor noble reported that Princess Selena had thrown a silver pitcher at a guest.

The pitcher had landed fifteen feet from the nearest guest.

Daric corrected the statement.

The noble objected.

”It was thrown.”

”At the floor.”

”Violently.”

”The floor has not complained.”

The noble seemed to expect further discussion. Daric called the next witness instead.

Two hundred witnesses had already turned one failed anchor into nine different events. Daric needed facts, not the improvements people made afterward.

Daric had also spent the journey north following Raigoro’s other order.

Find out who I married.

Blackharrow clerks had checked the current Valence succession, embassy summaries, diplomatic reports, and independent accounts of Odran’s household. Every source supported the identity presented at the wedding. Selena was Odran’s acknowledged daughter and First Princess, her recorded age fit the bride, and foreign observers had seen her publicly in Valence within recent months.

Nothing in the succession offered another royal daughter of the right age.

Daric therefore kept Selena as the working answer while testing what Odran might have concealed about her health, history, or the circumstances of the marriage. The records gave him a name. The Duchess’s behavior kept giving him reasons to question what the records left out.

The useful facts from the fire were simpler.

A brazier anchor had failed. The Duchess noticed it before the fall, and the noise she created gave Captain Arven time to move the child. The resulting fire damaged the eastern side of the hall. She later opened the emergency service passage while Blackharrow officers managed the evacuation.

No one died.

The engineers had already examined the failed anchor. Old stone around the iron fitting had cracked beneath repeated heat and winter moisture. They found no tool marks, no black resin, and nothing else suggesting deliberate damage.

Daric disliked coincidences, but the engineers had found structural failure and nothing else.

That was the evidence he had.

Household crews were already inspecting every suspended brazier in the Citadel. Daric had no intention of receiving a second report for the same failure.

He signed the engineering report and moved to the witness statements.

Daric summoned the closest of the four witnesses.

Captain Arven arrived ten minutes later.

”Tell me what happened before the pitcher hit the floor.”

”The Duchess stood. Looked up. Opened her mouth.”

”Did she call out?”

Arven frowned.

”Her mouth moved twice. I heard nothing.”

”The music?”

”Playing the first time.”

”You were close enough to be certain?”

”Yes.”

Arven’s account matched the other statements.

The witness accounts removed refusal from the list of useful explanations for the Duchess’s silence. They still told Daric nothing certain about her identity.

A knock came at the administrative archive workroom door.

Alma entered without waiting for permission.

”You have discovered doors,” Daric said.

”I learned from Her Grace.”

She placed a folded note on his desk.

”Mistress Hale says you requested the names of everyone in the eastern service passage.”

”I did.”

Alma did not leave.

Daric returned to his report.

”What?”

”You are writing about her.”

”Yes.”

”For Raigoro?”

”For His Grace.”

Alma’s expression made clear that the distinction had not improved matters.

Daric set down the pen.

”The fire happened in front of two hundred people.”

”That does not mean you need to turn it into an investigation.”

”It became part of the investigation when multiple witnesses reported information directly relevant to it.”

Alma crossed her arms.

”Her silence is not your evidence.”

”Everything relevant is evidence.”

”That is a comforting philosophy for the person collecting it.”

Alma had protected the Duchess since long before Blackharrow entered either woman’s life. Of course she treated an investigation capable of exposing the Duchess as dangerous.

Daric still had to report what the evidence showed.

”I am not asking you why she cannot speak,” Daric said.

Alma’s face gave him nothing.

”I am recording that she cannot.”

”You already knew she was silent.”

”I knew she had not spoken.”

Alma understood the distinction. Whatever answer she might have given disappeared from her face.

Daric continued.

”Until last night, refusal remained one possible explanation.”

”She does not owe anyone proof.”

”No.”

That answer caught her.

Daric picked up the witness statement.

”But His Grace is making decisions around a woman Odran presented under a specific identity. If evidence proves one explanation false, he needs to know.”

Alma’s attention settled on the paper.

”Evidence can destroy people.”

”Yes.”

Daric had seen the other cost at Third Watch. Promises had been accepted, reports had gone unverified, and soldiers had died waiting for aid that never came.

He would not decide which facts mattered according to which ones were safest to know.

Alma turned toward the door.

Before leaving, she said, ”She saved that child before she knew who was watching.”

Alma seemed to regret saying it as soon as the words were out. She left before Daric answered.

Her claim mattered, but Alma was also the least independent witness he could use. He left it out of the formal findings unless another account supported it.

The household gathering had ended early, but enough guests remained in the Citadel that breakfast required three halls.

Daric descended from Government Terrace and crossed the lower east household court later that morning on his way to the courier office.

The Duchess stood beneath the covered walkway with Mara Toren, the Third Watch widow. Daric slowed but did not approach. Unless one of them produced a weapon, neither required his assistance.

Mara held Captain Toren’s command sash folded over one arm.

The Duchess held her slate.

Neither woman appeared comfortable with the conversation. Daric would have distrusted anything easier after one evening.

Mara spoke first.

”I was told you saw the brazier before anyone else.”

The Duchess nodded.

”And the boy?”

Another nod.

Mara glanced toward the burn-damaged windows of the great hall.

”My husband would have asked why the anchors had not been inspected sooner.”

The Duchess wrote something and turned the slate.

Daric could not read it from where he stood.

Mara could.

”No,” the widow said. ”He would not have blamed you for that either.”

The Duchess stood with the chalk suspended above the board.

Mara adjusted the folded sash.

”Last night, when Hallen asked you, you wrote that you did not know. I did not believe you.”

The Duchess did not move.

Mara continued.

”I believe you did not know.”

Mara offered no apology or welcome. She had changed the one judgment the evidence no longer supported.

She bowed and walked away.

The Duchess remained beneath the covered walkway after Mara left. She did not appear relieved.

Being believed about her ignorance had solved exactly one problem. Daric’s investigation had considerably more than one.

He continued toward the courier office.

A fast rider was already prepared to leave for the temporary northern line.

Daric sealed his report.

The first pages covered the fire, engineering findings, injuries, evacuation, and household damage.

The final page required only one new finding.

THE DUCHESS ATTEMPTED TO CALL A WARNING AND PRODUCED NO SOUND.

He sealed the report.

The courier took the packet.

”When does His Grace receive this?”

”If the northern road remains clear, before dawn.”

Daric handed it over.

”Do not stop except at military posts.”

The rider left.